


Dark World Dealings

by TiaLewise



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! - All Media Types, Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alchemy of Thiefshipping, Ancient Egyptian Deities, Deathshipping, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Family Fluff, Healthy Relationships, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, M/M, No more forbidden rituals plz Ryou, Occult fuckery ahoy, Pan Ishtar, Slice of Life, Someone please get this kid a letter to Hogwarts before he burns the house down, Thiefbaby, Thiefdads, Thiefshipping, With a side order of relentless cock-blocking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 04:24:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16548842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiaLewise/pseuds/TiaLewise
Summary: Nobody ever said parenting was going to be easy, but when odd supernatural moments become a regular occurrence around your magical ritual-borne child, it certainly does throw an extra spanner in the works.  Our long-suffering Thiefdads just can't catch a - um, is that a portal to the Shadow Realm...? That's a portal to the Shadow Realm. Well, fuck.One silly journey, following Bakura and Malik as they adjust to life as a somewhat functional modern nuclear family. Humorous fluff with NSFW from the onset. What? Parents can still have sex, yano.Many thanks toShadow-chan93for all accompanying artwork, and toNoussommeslessquelettes, to whom the original idea of Pan belongs, and who kindly gave Shadow-chan and I full artistic license.





	1. Chapter 1

**_Link to full art[here](https://www.shadow-chan93.tumblr.com/post/179863516782/shadow-chan93-cover-art-for-tia-lewises)_**

The tombs were always silent, a deathly chill in the air that was heard more than felt. It shouldn't have been possible for such a lack of sound to alter the way people's minds processed it, but after leaving the tombs behind him for good, Malik had sworn that he would never again allow his life to be devoid of auditory stimuli.

However, like all things that come to pass, so too did Malik's vow. Silence became a luxury, something fought for and held onto with an iron grip. It started with Bakura, but more recently...

"Malik..." A soft, teasing voice crooned in his ear, rousing him from his muddled, half-asleep state. Slim arms draped over the back of the armchair he'd nodded off in, pale fingers lightly stroking through blonde hair that had definitely seen better days, but who had time for self-care anymore?

Malik cracked open an eye and tilted his head backwards. "What?" he grumbled.

"Pan is sleeping." Bakura looked immensely pleased with himself, and no less untamed than before their irritable bundle of occasional joy came into their lives. Not for the first time, Malik had to marvel at how little effort Bakura needed to put into maintaining a perfect appearance of not giving a fuck.

"I know. He's been sleeping for the last two hours." Malik rubbed his eyes. "And I was making the most of the peace and quiet, you idiot."

Bakura cocked his head and grinned widely. "I took a shower."

"Yes, I notice you don't smell like baby sick anymore."

"I was _very_ thorough." Bakura nipped the side of Malik's neck. "It's been weeks, Malik..."

“And with good reason. I’m exhausted.” Malik swatted half-heartedly at Bakura, but damn, were those relentless lips on his skin perking him up. “Can you not? If Pan wakes up, I swear – ”

“I’ll go to him if he does.”

Malik sighed and turned his head to catch Bakura’s mouth with his own. “Alright, alright…go and get the lube, would you?” Bakura dropped a bottle into Malik’s lap, and he picked it up with a short laugh. “Since when did you start preparing for _anything?”_

“Well, like I said…it’s been weeks.” Bakura slunk round the side of the chair and slipped into Malik’s lap. “Some things are worth not being a lazy fuck about.”

Malik really couldn’t argue with that, and _especially_ not with the added perk of the delectable heat and weight straddling his hips. Fuck it – tired, what tired? His fingers crept out to sneak underneath Bakura’s faded t-shirt, caressing his soft stomach and watching how Bakura’s deep brown eyes quickly became unfocused. Gods, he was gorgeous, all mussed-up hair and blushing cheeks and the way he leaned greedily into Malik’s touch.

Mali puckered his lips playfully. “Come here, _habibi.”_

Bakura’s mouth covered Malik’s immediately in a rough and clumsy kiss. Malik’s eyes rolled back in his head and he moaned in delight, feeling himself beginning to stiffen beneath his jeans. He rocked his hips upwards, pressing himself against Bakura. Their kisses broke only long enough for them to pull off each other’s clothes and toss them aside.

“You just sit back,” Bakura purred, “and let me do the work for a change…”

“Hmmm…what are you insinuating?” Malik’s reply trembled with sweet longing as Bakura set up a slow grind against him.

“Not insinuating, flat out telling. I’m the Number One Selfish Bottom™ and you know it. But…” Bakura began rocking his hips a little faster, bringing forth gasps of pleasure from both men, “I’m horny as fuck, so you’d better keep your ass in this chair while _my_ ass bounces on it, or Apep help me, I _will_ sneak meat juices into your food for a month.”

“God, I love you dirty talking me,” Malik moaned. He reached for the lube and coated two fingers before slipping them into Bakura with minimal resistance. Bakura hummed happily, nails digging into Malik’s shoulders for balance as he rocked back and forth on the probing digits. Bakura didn’t usually want or even need prep, but as it had been a few weeks since the last time they had sex, it was a necessary precaution to avoid injuring him.

Bakura rocked and bounced on Malik’s fingers for a few minutes, but both quickly became impatient, every movement of their bodies demanding more. As Malik pulled his fingers away, Bakura snatched up the lube, squirting a generous amount over Malik’s twitching shaft and stroking it in hurriedly. Then he was lifting his hips up, and plummeting down, impaling himself –

_“Weeeeeaaaaaaaagggggghhhhhhhh!”_

“Oh my fucking god!” Bakura half-growled, half-moaned, burying his face in Malik’s hair.

Malik sighed and patted Bakura’s leg. “You said you’d go to him.”

“Malik – ” Bakura sounded almost desperate, and his hips kept circling in a vain effort to maintain their pleasure; it was no use, Malik lost his erection the moment Pan began crying. Bakura ceased his movements with an irritated huff, and shoved himself away from Malik to grab his boxers and stalk off to their bedroom.

Any time they tried to get close, it was like this. It was like their son had a sixth sense for whenever his parents’ attentions were anywhere but on him, and it was exhausting. It had been three months since Pan’s “birth,” and Malik felt as though he still had no idea what he was doing, how he was doing it, how he’d ever thought having a child would be a good idea. He hadn’t asked how Bakura felt, but surely his lover of five years bore the same strain. Bakura hadn’t looked so constantly worn out and fed up since the infection and fever from stabbing himself in the arm during Battle City.

As Malik pulled on his own boxers, he couldn’t help cracking a small smile at the shushing noises now coming from the bedroom. Pan’s cries lowered to quivering whimpers, and Malik couldn’t quite pick up what Bakura was saying, but no trace of frustration sullied his words. A minute later, Bakura reappeared, holding a wriggling Pan to his chest with one hand, and dabbing at his tiny, plump mouth with the other.

Pa-neck Ir-en Bakura Ishtar, to give him his full name, looked like any old run-of-the-mill Middle Eastern infant at first glance. With his tawny skin and sandy-coloured hair, it was clear he had inherited most of his outward features from Malik. That made sense, the recessive genes of Bakura’s own white hair and skin having taken a back-seat. Pan did, however, possess the red-brown hue of Bakura’s mahogany eyes, and Malik liked to joke that whenever Pan scowled – which he did, a lot – he looked just like Bakura.

Pan was special, for lack of a better word. Brought into the world by a forbidden ritual, having never known a mother’s heartbeat as he developed, or experienced hiccups, or even the instinct to feed – Pan was a fractious child, delicate of health and under-exposed to the outside world as a result. Now, at three months old, he had begun to settle down significantly, but he still caused his parents enough anxiety on a daily basis that any sane person might have died long ago of several heart attacks. It was, perhaps, lucky then, that neither Malik nor Bakura had ever considered themselves sane.

Bakura patted Pan’s back gently as the infant continued to thrash and whimper. “Who fed him last?” Bakura grumbled. “Bloody thing’s got wind upon wind. No wonder he was crying.”

“You,” Malik replied curtly.

“I’m sure it was you. You never burp him properly.”

“Um, excuse me, his bottle is over there on the floor – that was you. I don’t leave his bottles lying around.”

“Ugh.” Bakura sat cross-legged beside Malik’s feet, popped Pan onto his stomach on the carpet, and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. “I’m so tired I don’t even remember _when_ he was last fed, let alone _who_ fed him.”

Malik’s expression softened somewhat. “I know, _habibi._ I know.” He reached out to stroke Bakura’s hair, pushing some of the messy tangles back from his face and tucking them behind his ear. Bakura leaned into the gesture with a sad smile, eyes closed in a mixture of weariness and pleasure. 

“Maybe we can shove Pan onto Ryou for a bit and just spend the day sleeping,” Bakura shrugged. “Or Ryou could keep him forever. He made him, after all.”

“Pan cries whenever he sees Ryou,” Malik scolded, “and you are _not_ giving away our son, you ass.”

“Don’t pretend you aren’t tempted.”

“…Shut up, Bakura.”

The infant currently patting the floor blinked up at Malik, mouth open and tongue poking out over his bottom lip. His chubby cheeks lifted as he smiled at his father. There it was – that heart-melting, goofy baby smile that Malik loved. How could he ever be annoyed with such an adorable little thing? Malik scooped Pan up and popped him onto his lap before leaning forward and nuzzling their noses together. Pan burbled happily, grabbing a lock of Malik’s hair and pulling in his excitement. _“Iyhe ya tifl,”_ Malik crooned, carefully removing Pan’s grasping fingers – so much stronger than he thought tiny babies could ever be – from the tight hold he had on the already-unkempt locks. “Seems like he’s in a fairly good mood for once,” Malik commented as he dropped a careful kiss to the fluffy crown of Pan’s head. Bakura watched him silently, head tilted slightly to the side and a wistful look on his face. “What’s wrong?” Malik asked him.

“Nothing really,” Bakura replied. “It’s…nice, you know? Seeing you bonding with him. I’m just glad there’s an Ishtar being raised above ground for the first time in several millennia.”

“Careful, Bakura, you carry on like that and I’ll start thinking you’ve got positive emotions in that black heart of yours.”

Bakura smirked. “Ha. Only for you, dipshit.”

“You’re _my_ dipshit.”

“The dippiest.” Bakura rose up on his knees and wrapped his right arm around Pan, leaning in to peck Malik on the lips. The gold band on Bakura’s left ring finger flashed as he ran his hand through the side of Malik’s hair, combing out the knots Pan had made with his tugging. “And you’re damn privileged to even…” Bakura’s sentence trailed off in an uncertain tone accompanied by a deep frown.

“Bakura?” Malik raised an eyebrow.

“Um. Malik…?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong?”

Bakura held up the end of the skein of hair in his hand. “Your hair wasn’t blue a minute ago.”

“What the fuck?!” 

“Malik! Language!”

“Oh…the baby. Yeah. Sorry.” Malik gazed wide-eyed at the azure splotch in his hair. “I don’t even…what…? How? Did Pan have paint on his hands?”

“Why the hell would he?”

“I don’t know!”

Bakura burst out laughing. “This kid is going to be keeping us on our toes for a long time to come. Next week it’ll be shit floating around the room, I bet you.”

“Bakura! Language!”


	2. Chapter 2

The following week, Ryou invited Malik and Bakura over for dinner.

“Do we have to?” Bakura moaned as he wrestled with Pan’s arms, fighting to stuff him into a woollen cardigan. Pan appeared less than impressed with his father’s attempts to dress him, and responded with a sharp wail of distaste. “See? Pan doesn’t want to go either. Malik! Are you even listening to me?”

“Nope.” Malik sipped a cup of coffee with one hand and touched up his makeup with the other.

“Look, you take Pan and go. I really don’t fancy a night of Ryou telling us everything we’re doing wrong.” Bakura finished dressing Pan and picked him up, settling the infant on his hip. “And Kek, don’t even get me started on Kek.”

“You’re projecting again, Bakura.”

“I’m not going, and that’s that!”

Malik rolled his kohl-outlined eyes. “You know, this might be the first time you’ve ever turned down the opportunity to eat steak.”

That made Bakura stop in his tracks. “Ryou’s making steak?” he whispered.

“Kek is making steak,” Malik corrected.

“Dammit, Kek makes the best steaks.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Malik shrugged.

“Yeah, yeah, _“I don’t make a habit out of eating the flesh of dead animals, your stomach is a graveyard,”_ blah blah, dumb hippy nonsense.” Bakura grinned at the resigned look on Malik’s face. “Alright, I guess I’m going after all. Be a pretty big blow to my pride if I walked away from a decent steak.”

Relentless arguing and teasing was a regular and normal part of their relationship, but the warm smile that Malik flashed at Bakura in response to his affirmative attendance sent a pleasant spark racing down to the pit of his stomach. He’d never told Malik just how beautiful he was when he smiled – usually he told him he was the epitome of resting bitch face – but at that moment, with a mind racing at the prospect of a bloody slab of meat, and his son energetically mouthing at his bony shoulder, and that dazzling smile...Bakura’s tongue nearly ran the thought clear into the air, but he stopped himself at the last moment and instead dumped Pan into Malik’s lap. “Better go brush my hair and change,” he muttered, turning on his heel and heading towards their bedroom.

“Your hair hasn’t seen a brush in its life!” Malik laughed at his retreating back.

Bakura couldn’t actually find the brush in question, so he settled for stealing some of Malik’s detangling spray and dousing his hair in it, before running his fingers through a few times and then tying the damp, shaggy mess into a high ponytail. He cast a quick glance at himself in the nearby mirror and nodded in approval; Malik always seemed to like it when Bakura tied his hair up, and he had the feeling his neck would be bearing several choice trophies later tonight…if Pan didn’t decide to interrupt them. Which he would. As usual. Bakura lamented the loss of the bruises he hadn’t yet received.

His jeans were fine, but Pan had spit up some of his milk earlier in the morning, and Bakura had mopped him up with the hem of his t-shirt, so over his head that went, and he grabbed the nearest clean garment he could find – which turned out to be a black button-down shirt. _Dammit, I’m not turning up looking like this is a fucking dinner party,_ Bakura scowled to himself, but he was already putting the shirt on and smoothing out any stray wrinkles. _Fuck it, it’ll do._

Malik wolf-whistled when Bakura walked back into the living room. “Hot damn, you gorgeous son of a bitch."

“Shut up,” Bakura muttered. He turned away to look for his shoes, which also served to hide the blush darkening his cheeks. “Who’s carrying him?”

“I will,” Malik replied, bouncing Pan leisurely on his knee. “Don’t want you creasing that lovely shirt of yours.”

“Didn’t I just tell you to shut up?”

“You shut up, and toss me the wrap, would you?”

Bakura picked up the length of brightly patterned fabric hanging over the bathroom door and almost threw it in Malik’s general direction, but walked over to hand it to him instead. Again, Malik flashed that beaming smile as he stood and began settling Pan into the wrap with one of the many intricate knotting methods he’d learned from the parentcraft lessons Bakura himself staunchly refused to attend. People carried babies in fabric wraps all the time in Kul Elna – hell, Bakura had done it himself as a child - he didn’t need some over-enthusiastic middle-aged woman gushing over what a wonderful father he was going to be by demonstrating that he already knew how to transport a small infant.

Several minutes later, with Pan securely wrapped up, Malik texted Ryou to say they were on their way, then they left the apartment to begin the short walk over to Ryou's house. Pan snoozed happily against Malik’s chest, cocooned in warmth and security; Bakura swore the sound of Malik’s heartbeat was the ultimate sleep remedy for their little one. Without realising, he extended a hand to squeeze Malik’s as they walked, and Malik responded with a soft squeeze of his own.

The front door was unlocked, so they walked straight into the house and changed into guest slippers; they didn’t bother with such things at their own apartment, but Ryou was house-proud and enjoyed the odd traditional element. They found the young man in question kneeling in front of the TV in the living room, fiddling with the wires behind one of the several consoles stacked beneath it, but he quickly dusted off his hands and hurried over when he realised his friends had arrived.

“Oh, he’s just so beautiful, isn’t he?” Ryou sighed as he brushed his fingers over Pan’s cheek. The child twitched in his sleep, but didn’t wake. Ryou began to help Malik remove the wrap from round his body. “It’s good to see you all again. How have you been?”

“Well enough,” Bakura shrugged. “When are those damn steaks ready?”

“When I say they are, and not a second before!” Kek’s gruff voice yelled from somewhere within the kitchen.

Ryou laughed lightly. “Should be done in about half an hour. I made black bean sweet potato burgers for you, Malik, and there’s salad and such if you want it as well.”

Malik beamed and gave Ryou a kiss on the brow. “Thanks, honey.”

Bakura had to admit, those burgers sounded good, even if there wasn’t a trace of meat to be found near them. He made a mental note to pilfer some from Malik’s plate later.

* * *

 How could somebody like Kek be a screaming, unstable wreck of a former alter ego one minute, and Gordon fucking Ramsay the next? _Damn,_ the man could cook. Bakura didn’t think he would ever stop singing praise for Kek’s steaks – though not to his face, of course. They’d never quite made it past the “tolerating each other for the sake of our boyfriends” stage.

“Malik, your hair is blue,” Kek frowned.

“I know,” Malik moaned, shaking his head. “I’m going to have to cut it off, aren’t I? It won’t fade! I’ve tried everything!”

Ryou blinked in obvious surprise and confusion. “What happened?”

“It was Pan!” Malik glanced over to the window, where Pan slept in the Moses basket that Ryou bought for him. “I don’t know how he did it, but he grabbed my hair last week and Bakura noticed it had turned blue.”

“Did he have something in his hand?” Kek asked.

“No, there was no way. He’d just got up from a nap and Bakura had had hold of him the whole time.” Bakura just shrugged when Kek’s eyes swivelled towards him, and shoved another large chunk of bloody steak into his mouth so he wouldn’t have to contribute to the conversation.

Ryou leaned back in his chair, brow creased and fingers tapping away on his lower lip. “Strange…”

“Tell me something I don’t know, honey,” Malik grinned, reaching for his wine glass.

“I think it might be worth keeping a close eye on him…”

“Oh, here we go,” Bakura scowled. “I knew it’d only be a matter of time before the bitching started.”

“Calm down, Bakura,” Ryou said. “I don’t mean in the sense that you’re not watching him enough. I – ”

The basket gave a little shake, and Pan began to whimper. Bakura loathed having to abandon his steak for even a moment, but apparently, being a parent meant never managing to enjoy a hot meal. He made to stand up, but Kek shook his head and got up himself. “Don’t you dare drop him,” Bakura hissed.

“What sort of idiot do you think I am?” Kek scooped Pan out of the basket and settled him into the crook of his arm.

“One with more muscle than brains.”

Kek rolled his eyes, looking remarkably like Malik’s earlier gesture of exasperation, but he didn’t comment further, instead choosing to stroke one massive finger gently down the bridge of Pan’s nose and make quiet shushing noises at him. Pan gazed up at the young man with such a resemblance to his father, and blew a wet raspberry, legs kicking out and hands flailing.

“Kek looks pretty good with Pan, wouldn’t you say?” Malik smiled at Ryou. “You think you two would have children yourselves at some point?”

“O-Oh, goodness, I…” Ryou spluttered, cheeks lighting up a bright red. “Well, I-I think it might be a bit too soon to be thinking about _that!”_

“Why? You and Kek have been together for as long as Bakura and I have.”

“Malik, we can barely look after ourselves, let alone a newborn,” Kek laughed. “Ryou forgets to eat for three days straight when he’s working on a Monster World campaign.”

“Yeah, compared to us, you two are like Mothers of the Year,” Ryou interjected with an amused smile. “No, we’re happy like this right now. I prefer being uncle Ryou rather than Daddy…even if Pan screams like a banshee any time I go near him. We really need to work on that. I’m missing out on cuddles!” As if on cue, Pan suddenly squirmed in Kek's arms and let out a shrill wail. "Although...maybe later, hm?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)  
> This author sees and appreciates all comments but may not reply immediately due to sheer forgetfulness.  
> Note: If, for any reason, you want to leave a comment, but would prefer not to receive a reply, feel free to sign your comment with four tildes - ~~~~ - and I will appreciate massively but not respond!


	3. Chapter 3

When Pan was eight months old, Isis and Rishid flew in from Luxor to pay the family a visit. Pan's health and anxiety had improved enough that Malik and Bakura no longer freaked out at the idea of him being outside for any extended period of time, so after a catch-up with the elder Ishtar siblings and consuming of many cups of tea, Isis suggested they take Pan for a few hours to give his parents a break.

“Are you sure?” Malik asked his sister, eyes wide and lashes fluttering as he blinked his surprise.

“Of course,” Isis replied. “I'm sure you and Bakura would appreciate a little time to yourselves, and we haven't been able to see Pan as much as we would have liked."

“It would be an honour,” Rishid added. He rarely showed emotion, but a faint smile crinkled the skin around his eyes as he watched Pan, dressed in a loose grey romper, crawl around on the floor. Just a few weeks after mastering sitting unassisted, he was now happily getting under the feet of his fathers and anybody else that happened to cross his path.

The siblings had been speaking in Arabic to each other, finding it easier to converse in their native tongue, but when Bakura re-entered the room from the kitchen, they switched seamlessly into Japanese. “Did you hear what Sister proposed just now?” Malik asked Bakura as he sat down on the floor, next to Malik’s legs with his back against the sofa.

“Something about free time and babysitting?” Bakura shrugged and passed a red wooden brick to Pan. “No idea, you know my Arabic is shocking.”

“Not far off,” Rishid chuckled.

“Rishid and I would look after Pan for a while, if you permit it,” Isis smiled down at Bakura. He met her soft gaze with his own suspicious scowl, a far cry from the sheer contempt he used to regard his sister-in-law with, back in the days where he berated her constantly for sheltering Malik from his past traumas. The mutual dislike still simmered between them, but within that came an understanding, and Malik was just grateful that they were getting along about as well as they could ever hope to.

After a moment, Bakura glanced up at Malik. “You alright with that?”

Malik nodded. “I think it’s a nice idea.” He gave Bakura’s shoulder a quick squeeze, the only affection he dared show his lover in the presence of his elder siblings.

“Lord Ishtar’s spoken,” Bakura shot back at Isis. “Break a leg, Deborah. The prince is all yours.” Isis rolled her eyes in reply, though, Malik mused, he thought Deborah was a nice change from Fortune Cookie.

“Come along then, little one!” Isis trilled, holding her arms out to Pan. He regarded her with his usual slack-faced curiosity as he gummed on the wooden block in his hand, but eventually dropped it to crawl over to his aunt and allow her to lift him up. Isis tickled his cheek, and he wriggled and cooed happily in response. “Oh, Rishid…” Isis sighed, “how privileged we are to have new life in our family.”

“Indeed,” Rishid nodded.

“Even _if_ he came about in the most unnatural way,” Isis shot towards Bakura.

“Natural baby-making sounds suspiciously close to spending time with women,” Bakura shrugged. “Amazing what a bit of hair and a magic circle can accomplish instead, hm?”

“Can I get that time to myself now, please?” Malik groaned. “Preferably without Bakura as well. Gods, you’re insufferable.”

Rishid’s smile deepened, though it was more in empathy now as he patted Isis’ arm. “Come, Sister. I believe we have outstayed our welcome for the time being.”

Malik went to get Pan’s pram; it had been shoved into a storage cupboard for ages as neither he nor Bakura could stand using the damn thing, but it was convenient for the rare times that Pan went away from his parents. Isis gave him a feed and changed his nappy, then popped him into the pram with a dummy and blanket. “Does he need anything else?” Isis asked.

Bakura pointed to the embellished, over the top, tie-dye shoulder bag that Malik had picked up while shopping with Ryou a while back. “Take that with you. He’ll eat regular food now, so feed him whatever just so long as he can’t choke on it – no, wait, he’s not allowed honey, and no whole nuts, oh, and he can have peanut butter if it’s spread _really_ thin on toast, but don’t give it to him straight from the spoon like your dumbass brother feeds himself.”

“Thank you, Bakura.” Isis picked up the bag and fitted it over the handles of the pram.

Malik suppressed a laugh at the splutter that exploded from Bakura’s mouth, and he didn’t miss the deep blush that followed, though Isis didn’t appear to have noticed as she fussed with the bag to inspect its contents. _I didn’t think he’d noticed me stealing the peanut butter,_ he thought, amused. “Honestly, Sister, don’t worry too much,” he offered, “but call me if you need to ask anything, alright?”

“I will,” she smiled.

“Bye, Pan!” Malik knelt in front of the pram to squeeze Pan's tiny hand and kiss his nose. Pan blew a spit bubble at him in reply, followed by a wide, gap-toothed smile. “You behave for your aunt and uncle, okay? No sending people to the Shadow Realm – we’ve had enough of that to last us several lifetimes.”

“Malik!” Isis admonished, shaking her head. She leaned into the pram and gave Pan’s hair a ruffle, then frowned and pulled out a red wooden brick from underneath his blanket. “Were you saving this one?” she giggled, placing it on the sofa before straightening up. “Okay, we will be on our way! Have fun, boys.” Rishid gave them a brief wave; Malik smiled up at him and waved back, and Bakura, looking thoughtful with a hand to his mouth, merely nodded. Then the elder Ishtar siblings were gone, Isis’ cheery humming vaguely distinguishable down the corridor towards the exit. 

Malik turned to Bakura. “Something on your mind, _habibi?_ Missing him already?”  
“Yeah, but – ” Bakura screwed up his face and huffed, then pointed at the brick Isis had left, “Pan only has one of those red ones…"

The couple blinked at each other, before their gazes simultaneously moved over to the carpet, where the singular red brick should have remained after Pan dropped it.

“What the fuck.”

“I know.”

“Is our child actually a demon?”

“Wouldn’t put it past him, with us as parents.” Bakura picked up the brick and bounced it in his palm, then tossed it across the room to ricochet off the edge of the toybox and wobble back to the floor.

“Bakura, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Time for an uninterrupted mug of hot chocolate, accompanied by a long bath together, and culminating in a good, hard fuck?”

“…Seriously?”

“Did I fucking stutter?”

Malik threw back his head and laughed. “You know what, that sounds good. Go run the bath, I’ll make the drinks.”

Bakura all but sprinted out of the room.

* * *

Bakura showered while he waited for the bath to run. As he stood under the spray and rinsed a cascade of foamy bubbles from his body, he wondered when the last time was that he’d been able to have so much time to himself. Okay, sure, only ten minutes had actually passed, but to him it felt like an eternity; a child-free, ambient-sounding eternity with promises of hot cocoa, hot water, and hot sex because hey, might as well make it a hat-trick of awesome.

The bath looked as though it was deep enough now, so Bakura switched off the shower, threw a few handfuls of Epsom salts into the bathtub, and slipped into the steaming water to wait for Malik. His drop-dead-gorgeous Egyptian lover appeared a few minutes later, a mug in each hand – purple for himself, red for Bakura. He gave Bakura a little wink, set the mugs down on the edge of the tub, and hopped into the shower.

Bakura didn’t wait, snatching up his mug and gulping at the sweet, creamy liquid with an audible moan of delight. The coloured mugs had been a good idea; the last time Malik made hot chocolate, he’d accidentally mixed up their identical mugs, resulting in Bakura receiving a mouthful of cashew-based swill and being less than impressed about it. On the contrary, the look on Malik’s face when he realised he’d drank a cow's breast milk could have filled an entire comedy show’s worth of skits, though the vomiting that followed hadn’t been quite so amusing.

Malik eventually joined him in the bath, and Bakura tugged him closer, settling Malik between his thighs, scarred, porcelain chest to scarred, tawny-hued back. “This is nice,” Malik murmured. “Don’t let me fall asleep, okay?”

Bakura reached out to give Malik his mug, then wrapped his arm round Malik’s waist once his hand was free. “Believe me, I’ve no intention of letting you drift off.” He nuzzled his cheek against Malik’s shoulder blade, ending with a few light kisses across the rough edges of the scars there. “We’ve not had any proper time alone since Pan was born…I want to make the most of it.”

“Of course, _habibi.”_ Malik sipped from his mug and placed it back on the side of the tub before turning his head to and pecking Bakura on the cheek. “Thank you for this.”

“Eh?”

“You know…” Malik gestured at random to the room, “this. Having a bath together, and cocoa…”

“Don’t forget the sex.”

“Yes, yes, the sex too,” Malik giggled. “But you know what I mean, Kura. It’s just…really…” He bit his lip as his sentence trailed off.

“I know.” Bakura pulled Malik back against his chest, allowing his lover’s words to evaporate like the steam swirling around their bodies.

They finished their drinks in amicable silence, then Malik leaned over the tub to put the empty mugs on the floor. With that done, he swivelled around to sit in Bakura’s lap, draping his arms over Bakura’s shoulders and embracing him softly as Bakura rubbed his thumbs back and forth over Malik’s slender hips. Their silence stretched on, neither having any desire to break it. Bakura couldn’t help but smile at the peaceful expression on Malik’s face; he knew Malik loved this kind of quiet.

Soon, though, the temptation of Malik’s lips hovering in front of him became too much to bear, and Bakura tilted his head up, lips pursed in a questioning pout. Malik cocked his head and smirked, a gentle chuckle pattering in his chest. He leaned down then, pressing his lips to Bakura’s.

Bakura’s dark eyes fluttered closed as he let Malik’s sweet kisses sweep him away into unashamed bliss. His hands roamed Malik’s back, drifting over scars that nobody else in living memory had claimed the privilege of touching. Malik let his appreciation be heard with a gentle moan, and his hips began to slowly rock against Bakura’s, pulling gasps of pleasure from between their panting lips.

“Impatient?” Bakura whispered.

“Maybe a little,” Malik admitted.

Bakura matched Malik’s rolling hips with a few well-timed bucks of his own. “Good. I want you riled up and desperate by the time we get to the bedroom.”

“Oh, fuck…” Malik buried his face in Bakura’s hair. “I think I’m halfway there already…”

“Then we’d best finish up, hm?”

 _“Aintazar..._ a little longer."

 _“Tamam."_ Bakura slid his hands back to Malik’s hips and held tightly, preventing him from rocking further. They returned to kissing, tongues dipping into each other’s mouths, breaths hot and heavy, melting into the steamy air around them. The flutter of Malik’s eyelashes against Bakura’s skin sent a delicious tingle down his spine, making him shiver and cling tighter to the man who had become his world in the absence of gilded vengeance. 

“I can’t wait anymore,” Bakura groaned against Malik’s lips.

 _“Now_ who’s the impatient one?”

“Shut up and pull the plug. I need you.”

Malik couldn’t have yanked the plug from the bath any faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoever can guess why Bakura calls Isis 'Deborah' gets a cookie.
> 
> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)  
> This author sees and appreciates all comments but may not reply immediately due to sheer forgetfulness.  
> Note: If, for any reason, you want to leave a comment, but would prefer not to receive a reply, feel free to sign your comment with four tildes - ~~~~ - and I will appreciate massively but not respond!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole chapter is NSFW, so proceed with caution if your boss/mother-in-law/potential date is looking over your shoulder - unless they're into immediate rimjob starters, in which case go the fuck ahead why don't you.

Bakura wailed in unbridled ecstasy as Malik’s enthusiastic tongue swirled quick and wet over his asshole. He was on his hands and knees on their bed, having landed there after Malik tackled him the moment they entered the bedroom. With the extra space afforded him by Bakura’s wide-spread thighs, Malik reached between them, stroking the underside of Bakura’s cock. He smirked against Bakura's skin as he listened to his lover unravelling into a deliciously shaking mess. 

“Dammit, stop teasing me,” Bakura gasped, bucking back against Malik impatiently, but any further words afforded him died the instant Malik stabbed his tongue as deep as he could go, and Bakura moaned instead.

“You like this?” Malik purred.

“F-Fuck…”

Malik smirked, giving Bakura’s ass a playful squeeze before dropping lower. His tongue left a gleaming trail down, circling around Bakura’s balls and then to his cock, Malik gently pulling it towards his mouth and sucking on the tip. Bakura’s breath became a sharp wheeze with every exclamation of pleasure, and Malik lifted his head after a few moments, frowning. “Do you need your inhaler?”

Bakura shook his head, hands fisting the bedsheets. “Just excited. I’m good.”

“Okay.” Satisfied there’d be no asthma attack on his hands, Malik dropped back down, rolling his tongue around Bakura’s balls and then back up to flick once more over the quivering skin of Bakura’s asshole. The sounds Bakura made as Malik pleasured him had him aching to ram hard and deep into Bakura’s body and fuck him into next week, but he forced himself to hold back. They might not get another chance like this again; sex was now almost entirely relegated to fumbling quickies whenever Pan’s fragmented sleep schedule gave them a few minutes, so Malik intended to get the very most out of their time.

He couldn’t stall for too long; Bakura wouldn’t climax just from the slow brushes of Malik’s fingers up and down his cock, but if he got too desperate, Bakura would slap his hand away and jerk himself to completion instead. Malik watched, felt, and listened, drinking in the actions of his lover. Judging by the shudders that rippled through Bakura’s body, and the neediness of his moans, he wasn’t far off snapping point. A shame, really...Malik had been looking forward to playing with him some more, but he drew back and wiped his lips with a smile, just happy to be in the moment. “Throw me the lube, would you?”

It took a few moments for the words to seemingly register in Bakura’s head, but he eventually reached out to where the lube sat on the pillow, and rolled it over to Malik, who squirted a sizeable puddle into his hand, using it to spread over the length of his cock. With what was left, he slipped two fingers into Bakura, not to prep him, but just to ensure he was well coated.

 _“_ _Ahhh…_ fuck, yes…” Bakura moaned. His muscles clenched tightly around Malik’s fingers as he thrust back on the digits, impaling himself deeper on them and uttering low growls of pleasure.

Malik bit his lip, absently rubbing his free hand over his own cock as he watched Bakura fuck himself on his fingers. The wanton neediness in Bakura’s every action only fuelled Malik’s adoration for the former thief, increasing the urge to be closer to him, as close as he could be. Finally, he couldn’t take the suspense anymore. He yanked his fingers out and positioned himself behind Bakura, lining the head of his cock up with Bakura’s lube-slicked hole. “Ready?” he asked.

“Please,” Bakura whispered.

That was all the consent Malik needed. He slammed his hips forward, sighing at the heavenly heat and friction that surrounded him, even as Bakura buried his head in a pillow and muffled a harsh scream. Anybody else might have thought Bakura was in pain, but Malik knew him inside out, literally, and maintained his fast, relentless pace, pounding into his lover with fervour and passion. He leaned over, fisting Bakura’s hair with one hand and gripping his waist with the other, leaving shiny trails of lubricant on his stark white skin. Bakura thrashed beneath Malik, growling out curses and rocking back into Malik’s savage thrusts. If he hadn’t been such a chronic nail-biter, Malik could have sworn Bakura would have torn clean through the bedsheets long ago. “You’re so _desperate,”_ he laughed. “Pent up, _habibi?”_

“H-Harder,” Bakura gasped.

Malik grinned evilly. “Drop your hips,” he ordered.

Bakura obeyed without question, his body now lying almost flat against the bed. When Malik’s next thrusts came, Bakura bit hard into his pillow, his screams coming thick and lusty even through the mouthful of fluff. The wildness in Bakura’s tone went straight to Malik’s cock, an intense thrill buzzing up his spine, tugging him closer to climax. Roughness and aggression with Bakura in bed never did Malik’s lasting power any favours, but regardless of the intensity of their fucking, Bakura’s stamina always long outlasted Malik’s; Malik supposed that was why Bakura laughed his head off when he found out the definition of the term “power bottom.” If ever the term made it into the dictionary, Malik would happily draw a caricature of Bakura next to it.

The first shuddering waves of climax began to spread through Malik's body, and he moaned into Bakura's hair. “Ahh, _habibi…_ I'm g-gonna come..."

Bakura arched his back, pressing himself further into Malik's deep thrusts. "Do it," he growled, and Malik couldn't hold back anymore, not when every sultry syllable that left Bakura's mouth had his cock twitching with lust. Only a few more sharp snaps of his hips, and then he was pouring his seed into Bakura's body. He slumped over Bakura's back when it was over, breathing heavily.

"D-Damn..."

Bakura chuckled underneath him. "Wow, after that, I might not hear you bitching for a whole hour."

"Shut up," Malik muttered. He pulled out of Bakura, rolled him onto his back, and clambered atop him, straddling his hips as he reached for the lube.

Bakura blinked up at him, surprise evident in his expression; he'd probably expected to be jerked off, but Malik was already slipping two fingers up his own ass, stretching himself out. "You sure?" Bakura asked, and Malik nodded in response. "We'll go slow, okay?"

Malik smiled down at Bakura. "Okay."

And it was good that Bakura remembered, for Malik's rare desire to bottom tended to overwhelm him, leaving him unable to fully enjoy himself. They'd soon figured out that being careful and gentle gave Malik the best experience; unfortunately, so excited was Bakura at the prospect of topping, he often went hard and fast right away, and Malik had had to stop the act entirely on more than one occasion. This time, though, with Malik loose and relaxed from his orgasm, they both knew he could take a little more intensity if he wanted it.

Malik coated Bakura's cock with lube, a little clumsily with his free, non-dominant hand, then slipped his fingers out of his ass and tugged Bakura into a sitting position. Slowly, he sank down Bakura's length, breathing deeply to adjust to the feeling of being filled. The quick prep hadn't helped much, but he'd used a lot of lube, and managed to seat himself fully without too much discomfort.

They sat nose to nose, arms around each other. Bakura plucked a kiss from Malik's lips as he held still, letting his lover decide their pace. "You alright?"

Malik grimaced as he shifted. "Yeah...just give me a moment."

"Of course." Bakura ran his fingers over Malik's back and dropped his kisses to his neck. "Take your time."

Malik began moving, slowly at first, Bakura guiding his hips in small circles. Their tongues slipped into each other’s mouths, tasting, tracing over their lips before plunging back in for more. Malik kept breathing deeply, focusing his mind, but no longer did his body scream at him to push his lover out. Bakura’s own breaths shuddered and hitched in his excitement; small, gasping moans washed over Malik’s ear as he pulled away from their kisses and buried his face in Malik’s hair. Hearing Bakura so lost to their lovemaking encouraged Malik to pick up the pace, and he began rocking his hips a little faster. “Oh, fuck yes,” he whispered, bursts of electrifying pleasure resonating deep in his belly. “Oh…Bakura…”

“Malik,” Bakura groaned in reply. His fingers dug into Malik’s ass with a grip hard enough to bruise, but Malik didn’t mind; who else was going to see the marks, anyway? He changed his movements, tightening his core muscles and beginning to bounce up and down on Bakura’s length, and fought the urge to laugh at the way Bakura screwed up his face as he tried his damned hardest not to scream out in ecstasy. Even after their years together, it was too easy to rile Bakura up in the bedroom, a complete slave to the power Malik had over him even when bottoming.

Soon, though, Malik’s hips and thighs began to ache from the strain of riding Bakura, and Malik slowed down, dropping his head to Bakura’s shoulder. “Damn, how do you make this look so easy?” he gasped.

“Practice makes perfect,” Bakura grinned, kissing the top of Malik’s head, “and I have had a lot of practice.”

“Mm-hm, you’re just a regular old slut, huh, _habibi?”_

“How offensive. I’m only a slut for you, gorgeous.” Bakura stroked the wing-shaped scars spreading across Malik’s shoulder blade. “How’s your back?”

“Um…” Malik rolled his shoulders a few times. “Fine, I guess. Why?”

“Trust me?”

“O-Oh…” Malik’s eyes widened. Early on in their relationship, he would have hesitated, his mind still closed to any thought of relinquishing control. How quickly Bakura had broken down the walls around him, fighting his way inside...how could Malik  _not_ trust Bakura after that? He trusted Bakura with his life, with everything in his being – what was his had been Bakura’s long before they exchanged vows that one silly, drunken night.

He locked his arms and legs tightly around Bakura, and a moment later Bakura rose to his knees and leaned forward, depositing Malik on the bed. The cool satin sheets caressed the tortured skin of Malik’s back, about as comfortable as he’d get, but his mind only focused on Bakura as he slipped back inside him.

“This okay?” Bakura asked.

Malik nodded in reply, leaning up to steal a kiss. His arms loosened from around Bakura’s neck, but he kept his legs locked around his waist, occasionally hiking his hips upwards into Bakura’s gentle thrusting.

True to his word, Bakura kept their lovemaking slow, so different from the wild and passionate speed with which everything else in their lives flew by – no, this moment was one to savour and cherish. Malik felt the muscles in Bakura’s wiry frame begin to tense, and knew he was close. “Come,” he whispered, smoothing his hands through Bakura’s hair. “Come for me, beautiful.”

“G-Gods, Malik!” Bakura cried. “I’m…I…” He couldn’t finish his sentence, cutting off with a near-scream as Malik lifted his hips up once more, grinding himself into Bakura. _“Fuck!_ Yes, yes, yes, _yes!_ I’m coming!” He grabbed Malik’s hips, slammed in hard, just the once, and held still, pumping his release deep inside Malik’s body.

Malik sighed softly at the heat filling him as everything went slack, and he settled back onto the mattress, drawing Bakura down with him. They flipped their positions, Bakura on his back and Malik snuggling in atop him, his back to the open air. Malik drew absent-minded circles on Bakura’s pale chest as he smiled in satisfaction, nuzzling his nose into Bakura’s neck. “I love you,” he murmured.

He knew Bakura wouldn’t say it back, scared to let another loved one slip away from him. Malik didn't care; he didn’t need words to tell him what Bakura felt. He just knew, always had done. The cocoa, the bath, the lovemaking…and now the hands stroking his heated skin, the lips pressing gentle kisses over his brow…they would always be enough for him.

_**Link to full art[here](https://www.shadow-chan93.tumblr.com/post/180247931727/hhhhhrrrrr-another-piece-for-the)** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)  
> This author sees and appreciates all comments but may not reply immediately due to sheer forgetfulness.  
> Note: If, for any reason, you want to leave a comment, but would prefer not to receive a reply, feel free to sign your comment with four tildes - ~~~~ - and I will appreciate massively but not respond!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so we have a short Deathshipping interlude because someone has to deal with this occult fuckery and it might as well be Ryou.

* * *

Ryou held a crystal in each hand and closed his eyes, murmuring soft, almost soundless words under his breath. Around him, candles lit the darkened room, and the heady scent of incense permeated the air. All was calm and still, the perfect environment for divining the peculiar imbalance of energy Ryou had been picking up on for the last few weeks. Supernatural events in Domino were nothing new, considering their close proximity to KaibaCorp’s shenanigans, but this felt…oddly familiar, and definitely unwelcome.

Ryou opened his eyes, frowned, and set the crystals in his lap to scribble on the paper in front of him, noting the shifts in the air and the energy they gave off. He’d check them against his spell books later, when he had time to interpret their meaning.

“What do you think?”

Ryou glanced up at the soft call of his lover and smiled at Kek, sat cross-legged on their bed as he watched the scene before him with curious eyes. “I can’t be sure yet,” he replied, “but this energy…does it feel like something we’ve dealt with before?”

Kek shrugged. “I try not to focus on that stuff these days. I just want to move on from it all, snowflake.”

“I know you do, love. I’m sorry I asked.” Ryou picked up the crystals again. “I just can’t…I can’t shake off the feeling that there might be danger headed our way unless we do something about it.”

“What can be done?”

“Now that…I should be able to figure out once I can sit down with my books,” Ryou smiled. Placing both crystals into a small circle of salt, he leaned over and picked up a pendulum, holding it up over the twinkling chunks. The frown returning to crease his pale brow, he watched with steady eyes as the pendulum swung gently back and forth. “I really don’t know what to make of this at the moment…”

“Take a break,” Kek suggested. “You’ve been sat like a statue for close to an hour.”

Ryou leaned back and sighed. “Yeah…I guess I could use a breather.”

“You want some tea?”

“God, I love you,” Ryou grinned as he began tidying away his divination gear. Kek chuckled, hopping up off the bed and disappearing downstairs. Ryou followed him down several minutes later, and picked up the mug of tea that Kek held out for him upon his entry into the living room. “Thank you, Kek.”

“Don’t mention it.” The tips of Kek’s ears turned ever so slightly pink. He held his own mug, which he sipped from lightly. “Isis and Rishid are in town, you know.” He never called them “sister” or “brother,” despite Malik’s best efforts to integrate him into the family.

“Oh?” Ryou blinked at Kek a moment. “Why didn’t you say so before? I would have invited them over.”

“…No, you don’t have to do that.”

“Kek – ”

“They’ve got Pan at the moment, anyway, so they’ll be busy.”

“How do you know?”

“Rishid texted me.” Kek pursed his lips, scowling into his mug. “Malik must have given him my number.”

“That’s good, right?”

Kek just shrugged. “Bugger if I know.” The look of uncertainty and misery on Kek’s face made Ryou’s heart hurt. He, himself, got on well with Isis, knowing the eldest Ishtar closely now from her working alongside his own father, and Rishid was pleasant enough, though he rarely spoke. Kek had always fought hard not to be around them, however, and Ryou had never asked why, though he thought he probably already knew the answer.

“Would you mind if I gave Isis a call?” Ryou asked. “I haven’t seen her in a while, so…”

Kek raised an eyebrow at Ryou. “The fuck are you asking permission for? It’s your life.”

“And it’s your family.”

The blush on the tips of Kek’s ears migrated to the rest of his face now, and he turned away with a scoff. “Do what you want, snowflake.”

 _I don’t want to upset you,_ Ryou sighed internally, as he got up from the sofa, bending to give Kek a kiss on the top of his head. Kek made a small sound in response, but Ryou couldn’t tell if it was happy or pissed off. He took himself and his mug of tea into the kitchen, where his mobile sat on the countertop, its notification light blinking. Ryou unlocked the phone and saw a picture message from Malik, showing him snuggled up in bed with a very much out-for-the-count Bakura. _“Looks like you had some fun without Pan around!”_ Ryou texted back, giggling as he did so.

 _“You bet, honey,"_ Malik texted back a moment later.

 _Aw, I’m glad for them._ Ryou began searching through his contacts for Isis’ number. _Those two don’t get enough time to themselves these days. I wish I could help more, but Pan…something about me just throws him off. I wish I knew what. Aha, here we go…_ He held the phone to his ear and leaned on the counter, humming lightly.

… “Hello, this is Isis Ishtar speaking.”

Ryou laughed. “Isis, honestly, you don’t have to be so formal when you’re off the clock!”

“O-Oh…Ryou, hi.” Isis’ tone dropped immediately to something a little more casual-sounding. “How are you? It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Sure has,” Ryou smiled. “I’ve been pulling a lot of overtime at the museum recently, so, you know, kinda tired. Kek told me you were in town and I just thought I’d check in with you.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Isis replied. “Well, I’ve…had to move into the hallway to take this call, because Pan just won’t stop _screaming._ I don’t know what’s wrong with him, Ryou! I don’t remember Malik being this fractious as a baby.” She sighed into the phone. “Rishid, of course, is as calm as ever, but the screaming, I…it’s…it’s difficult to listen to.”

A pang of sympathy ached in Ryou’s heart. Of course Isis would find it hard to cope with the cries of a child she could do nothing for…it was like history repeating itself for her. “I’m sorry to hear that, Isis. Actually, maybe I could come over and see you all? I doubt I can calm Pan down, but I could do with speaking to Rishid about divination, if that’s alright with you.”

“Oh, of course! It would be lovely to see you.”

“Usual hotel?”

“That’s the one. We’re in room 98. Shall I expect you soon?”

“I’ll set off right now. Be with you as quick as I can!”

A gentle chuckle tickled Ryou’s ear. “I look forward to it.” The phone gave a soft _beep_ a moment later as the call ended.

Ryou tucked the phone into his pocket, poured his tea into a thermos, and hurried upstairs to fetch his crystals. He shoved it all into a bag and came back downstairs two at a time, heading for the hallway. Kek stared after him, looking a little bewildered. “Ryou?” he called at his retreating back.

“Just nipping out!” Ryou replied, already slipping his shoes on. “Your sister sounds like she could use a friend.”

Kek was at his side straight away. “Has something happened?”

“No, but Pan’s upset, so she’s, well…”

“Not sure how to cope. I know.” Kek sighed and reached for his coat. “Guess I’m coming as well, then.”

“Oh, love, you don’t have to if it – ”

“I only want to see Pan, alright?” Kek growled. “Is that allowed, or do I have to pussyfoot around the damn baby as well?” A vein throbbed near his temple, an anger reminiscent of his younger days, before he discovered love and security in Ryou’s arms. The white-haired man in question gazed at Kek silently, his face slack and impassive as he sipped from his thermos. Kek sighed again and rubbed his brow. “I’m sorry, snowflake. I didn’t mean to speak to you like that.”

“I know, love.” Ryou rubbed Kek’s arm comfortingly.

“It’s just…family is…” Kek couldn’t seem to find the words as he shook his head, “…it’s hard to get close when they…it’s like they all…”

“Judge you?”

Kek didn’t answer, but Ryou knew his lover’s struggle. Pan, being the only one who didn’t look at Kek like he might flay someone alive, tore at Kek’s heart more than he would ever care to admit.

He leaned up then, and pecked Kek’s stubble-brushed cheek, prompting him to close his eyes and smile softly. “Come on. Let’s go and see Pan.”

Ryou drove the short distance to the hotel where Isis and Rishid were staying, while Kek slouched in the passenger seat and played games on his phone. After much slow reversing and muttered swear words about inconsiderate motorists, Ryou managed to slot the car into a parking space, and they jumped out to head into the hotel. Ryou had stayed there several times himself as a child, before moving to Domino; his father had been involved with many important events at the museum prior to becoming the owner, so he knew the interior well.

Room 98 was on the fourth floor. They took the stairs, and on the last flight, Kek reached out a hand to grip Ryou’s, a slight tremble running through him. Ryou lifted their linked hands and brushed his lips over Kek’s knuckles, which seemed to reassure him somewhat, his posture visibly relaxing…

…Just as Ryou’s locked up and froze.

“Ryou?” Kek looked back, realising his arm stuck straight out backwards with Ryou not walking. “You okay?”

Ryou’s breaths came in jagged pants, eyes darting to and fro urgently. Though alert and in control of his senses, he nonetheless felt as though he couldn’t move a muscle for the fear-inducing blackness making its menacing way down the corridor towards them. “Shit…” he whispered. “Kek, it’s here.”

“Huh?”

“The dark energy. It’s…it’s really close.”

“Shit!” Kek echoed Ryou’s curse as he flung an arm round his shoulders. Ryou clung to him, barely able to move his feet. “Dammit, we _know_ it’s bad if I can feel this too!”

“Calm down,” Ryou whispered. “I’ll be alright in a minute…I just – ”

Kek wasn’t listening; he barged open the door to room 98 without even so much as a “knock knock, who’s there.”

Isis had been reading a book whilst sat on the edge of the bed, but she glanced up sharply at the source of the commotion, gasping at Ryou’s fragility and Kek’s irritated panic. “W-What…?”

The two young men only had eyes, however, for the snuffling infant snoozing on a frowning Rishid’s shoulder.

“Kek…?”

“Yeah, snowflake?”

“Is that, um…”

“I…think it might be, yeah.”

They looked at each other, eyes wide and faces pale. “Oh, fuck.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)  
> This author sees and appreciates all comments but may not reply immediately due to sheer forgetfulness.  
> Note: If, for any reason, you want to leave a comment, but would prefer not to receive a reply, feel free to sign your comment with four tildes - ~~~~ - and I will appreciate massively but not respond!


	6. Chapter 6

"Okay, so..." Malik rubbed the bridge of his nose, "let me get this straight - "

"Nothing to get straight," Bakura muttered. “Looks like we were right all along about Pan.” He looked down at their child, nestled against Bakura as he guzzled down a bottle of milk. "Weird things have been happening around him for ages now."

"I can't believe I didn't spot it earlier." Ryou looked rather green and sickly as he leaned his head against a frowning Kek's shoulder. “There’s no mistaking the darkness around Pan, though…and it’s strong, very strong.”

Isis stood by Malik's chair, hands clasped in front of her. "What do we do?" she asked, more to the room than anyone else.

"There may be a possibility that a parasite/host relationship has occurred,” Rishid offered. “I could try to exor - "

"You are _not_ performing an exorcism on my son!" Bakura shouted. Pan jumped in his arms, spat out his bottle, and began to cry heartily. "And now you upset him, Baldy. Nice one."

"He didn't like you raising your voice," Kek pointed out.

 _"You_ calm him down, then!" Before Kek could protest, Bakura dumped Pan onto his lap and stormed out of the room. Malik watched him go with a heavy heart, knowing that Bakura felt the same guilt and fear he did.

Kek gathered the crying babe into his huge, muscled arms, rocking him gently. "We think it might be a side-effect of how he was born," he said to Malik. "Those old rituals aren't something that should be taken lightly, and we know Ryou's good with his magic, but..."

"But even the most powerful wizards can have their spells backfire on them," Ryou whispered. Tears began running down his cheeks. "Gods, Malik, I'm so sorry. Your poor baby...what have I done?"

Malik shook his head. "It's not your fault, honey." A smash echoed down the hallway, and he got to his feet. "I'd best check on Bakura. You okay with Pan a moment, Kek?"

"Of course."

"Thanks."

Malik found Bakura in their bedroom, fists and forehead pressed against the wall, surrounded by shards of what had once been a rather expensive bottle of Malik’s cologne, its invigorating scent permeating the air. Malik might have been angry at any other time, but his love shook so violently that he couldn't find the words or the emotions that normally bubbled up within him at Bakura's usual antics. Instead, he wound his arms round his waist and drew himself close. "It's okay," he whispered. "It's okay, _habibi."_

Bakura growled low in his throat. "What in the seventh circle of hell makes you think that _anything_ about this is okay? How the fuck are you so _calm?!”_

“I’m really not. Believe me, I’m probably freaking out as much as you are.”

"We never should have done this,” Bakura rasped. “This was such a stupid decision!” He slammed a fist into the wall again, denting the plaster. "Forget the damn magic, how did we ever think we could cope with having a kid? I can't..." Malik gasped as he heard a quiet sob from his partner. "I can't do this, Malik. I-I...I can't, I..."

The fire, the blood, the loss of his family, his whole world - Malik knew it flashed before Bakura's eyes right now; he couldn't bear the thought of losing someone else important to him. For all that he bitched about the inconveniences of parenthood, Bakura loved his son. To have brought Pan into a world where shadow magic made its deadly mark on him...Malik had never once considered just how badly that might affect Bakura.

"I'm sorry," he sighed, as he pressed his face between Bakura's jutting shoulder blades.

“The fuck are you apologising for?”

“I’m the one who wanted to start a family with you.”

“I wouldn’t have agreed if there wasn’t some part of me that wanted it too.”

“We can fix this. I know we can.”

“Your brother is _not_ going all Regan MacNeil on Pan!” In any other situation, Malik would have pointed out to Bakura that he’d muddled up the character roles, but seeing Bakura so close to tears rendered him unable to poke fun at the gaps in his horror film knowledge; he’d leave that to Ryou later.

“Um…am I interrupting?” Ryou’s soft, comforting voice floated through from the doorway, and when the couple turned, they saw him peering in, blinking his big brown eyes. “Sorry, guys…I just wondered if you needed anything.”

Bakura pushed himself away from the wall and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m fine,” he muttered.

Malik offered Ryou an apologetic smile. “Don’t worry about us, honey.”

“Listen, I…” Ryou stepped further into the room, scratching at the knot of scar tissue on the back of his left hand. “I want to try and put this right, but only if I have your consent to do so.”

“You created him,” Bakura scoffed. “You don’t need to ask us.”

“Be that as it may, Bakura, you two are still his parents.” Ryou frowned at the man who had once commandeered his body so many years ago.

“Yeah, I know, and I’m telling you that you don’t need to ask us this shit!”

Ryou blinked a few times, then glanced at Malik. “What say you?”

Malik just shrugged. “It’s got to be done, right? I trust you, and if some demon fuck is possessing our baby then it needs to get the hell out.”

“Believe me, it’s not a demon,” Ryou smiled, “so no exorcisms necessary.” At that, Bakura heaved a deep, relieved sigh. “Give me an hour or so with Rishid, and we’ll figure something out, okay?”

“You’re amazing, you know that, right?” Malik threw his arms around Ryou’s shoulders and kissed both his cheeks. 

* * *

As Pan slept on a floor cushion, Ryou and Rishid surrounded him with a protective ring of salt and spoke melodic incantations over him in between thumbing through a pile of old spell books Ryou had rushed back to his house for. Bakura flitted in and out of the room, seemingly reluctant to stay for more than a few minutes at a time, and Kek appeared to have vanished altogether, so Malik sat anxiously beside his sister, holding her hand. “You must be itching to say, “I told you so” right now, huh?” he murmured.

“What?” Isis frowned. “Why on earth would I say that?”

“Well, I mean…you never did really approve of us having Pan.”

Isis squeezed Malik’s hand with a sad smile. “Yes, I had my reservations initially, but would that have ever stopped you? You were always the one that forged ahead with your own way – goodness, if you didn’t prove that to me when you formed the Ghouls, you certainly did when you got married.”

“Don’t sugar-coat it, sis. I’m a regular pain in the ass.”

Isis laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Rishid would.”

“Rishid has a way with you that I never did. But Malik…” Isis rested her head against her brother’s, “you aren’t to blame for any of this. None of you are. Pan is a wonderful child and a credit to his parents. I can tell that both you and Bakura would do anything for him.”

Malik’s eyes watered with unshed gratitude, and he allowed himself a soft chuckle as he dabbed the tears away. “It means a lot to hear you say that.”

Bakura popped his head round the door at that moment. “How’s it all going?”

“We’re finished.” Rishid sat back on his heels and reached out to close the spell book with a definitive _snap._

“I think it’s all going to be alright,” Ryou smiled as he dusted off his hands. “We’ve managed to isolate the dark energy around Pan and block its wavelength, so hopefully there won’t be any funny bursts of magic from here on out.”

Bakura chuckled. “I have to say, the blue hair was a good one, though.”

“I’m still traumatised about that,” Malik muttered under his breath, as the whole room heaved with laughter.

* * *

Bakura insisted on bringing Pan into their bed that night. The bedroom had been cleared of any stray glass shards, though the scent of cologne lingered. Malik had had to stop himself despairing over how much it would cost him to replace it…but the freshly bathed and full-bellied infant nestled between himself and Bakura in bed made it a little easier to forget about the earlier difficulties of the day. Pan snuffled in his sleep as he sucked on a dummy, occasionally wriggling into a more comfortable position; currently his head buried itself somewhere around Malik’s navel, and Malik rubbed a hand along the curve of his back with a happy sigh. “I can never get over how beautiful he is.”

Bakura, reading a manga volume, lowered it to quirk an eyebrow at Malik. “You self-absorbed prat, that’s because he looks exactly like you.”

“Don’t be stupid, he has your – ” Malik paused to return Bakura’s expression. “Did you just – ”

“Malik, we’ve been married close to four years. I think we’ve safely moved past the part where we need to show disbelief at every backhanded compliment.”

The Egyptian opened his mouth to argue, but the retort died in his throat before he could form it. Bakura was…Bakura was being serious; Malik couldn’t see a trace of amusement or joking in his face. The stress of the day must have been worse for Bakura than Malik could ever hope to understand.

Instead of arguing, he nodded. “Thank you.”

“Don’t start getting soppy on me, it’s damn creepy.” Bakura closed the manga and tossed it onto the bedside table. “Are you going to sleep now?”

“Might as well. Nothing else to do.”

“Good.” Bakura exhaled a yawn and rubbed his eyes. “I’m so fucking worn out from today.”

“I know, _habibi._ You go and use the bathroom first – I’ll stay with Pan.” Malik couldn’t help the giggle that slipped out when Bakura leaned over to peck him on the cheek before hauling himself out of bed to shower and brush his teeth.

When Bakura returned, they switched places. Malik always took much longer in the shower than Bakura did, and by the time he’d brushed his teeth, removed his eyeliner, washed his hair, and shaved, he found Bakura to be fast asleep in bed with an equally snoozing Pan on his chest. Smiling at the two favourite people in his life, Malik pulled on a pair of clean boxers, then gently extricated Pan from Bakura’s protective embrace in favour of placing him back between them on the mattress.

The infant scowled in his sleep at the shift, spitting out his dummy, but Malik popped it back in his mouth before he could wake and protest about the sudden lack of crap-quality replica breast tissue. “Looks just like me, huh…” Malik chuckled as he dimmed the lights. “Not with that scowl, he doesn’t – that’s all Bakura.” He clambered back into bed and kissed Pan’s brow. “Regardless, _ya tifl al-latif…_ we both love you, okay?” 

Malik’s eyes closed then, and he let himself be lulled into a peaceful sleep, comforted by the presence of his lover and their son...

Until a harsh shout shattered his dreamless slumber.

“You need to get up! Malik!”

Malik jerked upright at the urgency in Bakura’s tone. “W-Wha…?” he mumbled, squinting at the brightness of the overhead light. “Ugh…the fuck, Bakura? Why did you turn the light back on?”

“Because he’s gone!” Tears streamed down Bakura’s face, and he wrung his hands and paced the room with a frantic energy. “Pan’s gone!”

Malik scrambled out of bed, holding a hand out towards Bakura as ice stabbed through his heart. “Hang on a second, what do you mean?”

 _“I mean he’s gone!”_ Bakura screamed. “I woke up and he wasn’t in the bed!” He smacked Malik’s hand away and jabbed a finger at the bedroom door. “I thought he might have fallen out and crawled off, but he isn’t anywhere in the apartment, Malik! I’ve looked everywhere!” A fresh wave of tears cascaded from Bakura’s eyes as he covered his mouth and sobbed.

Frozen, numb, Malik grabbed hold of Bakura and pulled him close. “He can’t have gone far,” he whispered into Bakura’s hair, keeping his brain whirring, _don’t dissociate, don’t dissociate, don’t you fucking blank out now, Malik, stay with it…_ “Where could he be?”

“The fucking shadows for all I know,” Bakura sniffed, wiping his eyes. “There’s no sign of a break-in, so he hasn’t been taken.”

The shadows…and the spells from earlier. Something clicked into place. _What did Ryou say about magic backfiring sometimes?_ “This is dealing with something well beyond our reach,” Malik muttered. “Without the Items, we’re useless against anything remotely dark.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

“After this, _habibi…_ no more shadow magic, please.”

“Took the words right outta my mouth.” Another sob hiccupped in Bakura’s throat as he pushed Malik away. “I’ll go phone Baldy and the dork. Don’t dissociate on me, alright? Stay with it.”

Malik nodded sadly. “Took the words right outta my mouth.”

_Pan…where are you?_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)  
> This author sees and appreciates all comments but may not reply immediately due to sheer forgetfulness.  
> Note: If, for any reason, you want to leave a comment, but would prefer not to receive a reply, feel free to sign your comment with four tildes - ~~~~ - and I will appreciate massively but not respond!


	7. Chapter 7

Ryou and Kek had been on the receiving end of many an unexpected wake-up call at three in the morning, usually courtesy of Bakura being drunk and in the mood for pranking, or Malik giving him the boot after an argument. This time, however, the couple were out of bed straight away and making the mad dash in Ryou’s car to the apartment. Rishid had texted Kek to say he and Isis were heading over as well; the message came as Kek was driving, so Ryou read it out whilst on a call on his own mobile, trying in vain to keep a completely manic and screaming Bakura calm. Many, many emotions and altered psyches had found their way to Ryou’s former parasitic tenant in the years since his return to Domino, but Ryou had never known him to be in such a state.

“Put him on loudspeaker,” Kek said as he side-eyed Ryou, clearly able to hear the volume of Bakura’s panic through the tiny phone speaker. Sighing, Ryou did so, and before Bakura could break out into another fit of screaming, Kek barked, “Alright, you fucking idiot, this is what you’re going to do. You’re well within your right to be throwing a fit right now, but you live in an apartment block with _loads of other fucking families,_ and you do _not_ want any of them calling the police right now. So shut up, take a few deep breaths, make some tea or something, but _stop screaming._ We need to handle this on our own – last thing you need is the cops getting involved.”

“Don’t tell me what you fucking think I need!” Bakura sobbed on the other end of the line.

“Stop screaming, right now, or I swear to Ra himself I will slit your throat and carve out your voicebox.”

“Kek!” Ryou admonished.

“I’m serious, Bakura!” Kek completely ignored Ryou. “Authorities turn up and you’re looking at a kidnap or infanticide case, which given yours and Malik’s records isn’t going to make this look any better. Just hold on, okay? We’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

The threat of police action seemed to stop Bakura in his tracks, and for several moments he just breathed, albeit very rapidly and with much shaking. After a minute he sighed and sniffed, muttering, “Alright already, just…get here quickly…please.”

The phone clicked off then, and Ryou gaped at it, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. For Bakura to beg them…the situation was much more severe than they could have imagined.

The apartment door was unlocked when they arrived. Kek heaved a sigh to see that his siblings had beaten them to the chase, but Rishid appeared too busy with investigating the situation to pay him much attention; Isis had her arms round a trembling Malik as he buried his head in her shoulder, and the clatter of crockery in the kitchen indicated Bakura’s whereabouts.

Almost immediately, the sense of dark, foreboding energy washed over Ryou, though in the living room, it was weak, more a gentle wave than the overwhelming sensation that had hit him in the hotel room. At Ryou’s gentle gasp, Rishid turned his head. “You feel it too?”

“Yes…” Ryou stepped further into the room and extended a hand, feeling for the wavering strength of the energy. “This isn’t shadow magic. I thought it was at first, but now I’ve had time to compare it to my own experiences…no, this is something else entirely.”

“I believe this to be something none of us will ever have been subject to,” Rishid said. He held a crystal pendulum in his hand, and he murmured a few sentences in soft Arabic as he watched it swing back and forth. “However, what that might be, I have yet to decipher.”

Malik lifted his head from his sister’s shoulder and smiled weakly at Ryou. “Hi, honey. Thanks for coming over so quickly.”

“Are you okay?” Ryou touched Malik’s arm.

“I’ll…” He dabbed his eyes, “…I’ll be alright, now you’re all here. It’s Bakura you should worry about; I’ve never seen him this distraught over anything before.”

“Should I go to him?”

“He’ll come out when he’s ready.”

“Ryou.” Rishid gestured for Ryou to approach, while Kek awkwardly sidestepped around Isis to help in comforting Malik. Rishid handed the pendulum to Ryou and then disappeared into Malik and Bakura’s bedroom to investigate.

Malik extricated himself from his sister, spoke a few quiet words to Kek, then stumbled his way over to Ryou, tears blurring his vision. “We’ll fix this,” Ryou murmured to him as they embraced. “We’ll find him, I promise.” Guild threatened to consume Ryou whole, to swallow him up the same way he had been dragged into the shadows as a teenager, but no…he had to be strong now, and Malik’s arms looping around his waist bolstered that strength, the warmth of his closest friend a soft comfort in their dark moment.

Quickly as he had vanished, Rishid reappeared. “In here, please. Quickly.”

“Have you found something?” Isis asked.

“Yes, I think so.”

Bakura stuck his head round the kitchen door, his expression bright and hopeful. He looked a complete mess, eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot, scratches decorating his cheeks that looked a lot newer than the love bites peppering the left side of his neck. Kek opened his mouth, most likely to chew Bakura out for getting into such a state, but Isis shot him a warning stare and shook her head.

They piled into the bedroom. As soon as Ryou crossed the room to where Pan’s crib stood, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he shivered. _Here…I can feel it stronger here…_

At the same time, Isis gave a little cry and touched her fingers to the hollow of her throat. Malik stared at her, blinking rapidly. “Sister?”

“I-I…” she gasped, looking bewildered. “Sometimes I have seen things…even after giving away the Millennium Necklace…”

“What did you see?” Rishid asked.

“I find it hard to believe, but…Pan…I saw him, in the little suit Ryou and Kek bought him – ”

“That’s what he was wearing tonight,” Bakura croaked.

“Go on,” Malik urged.

Isis took a few deep breaths to steady herself, holding onto Rishid’s arm for support. “He was playing with a feather, and…well, this is where it gets peculiar, but I – ” She shook her head, trembling, “I saw Anubis, I’m certain of it.”

Malik and Bakura exchanged glances, mouths slowly dropping open. Neither appeared able to speak.

“So, um…” Kek scratched his head, “Pan’s not gone into the darkness, then?”

“Only if what I saw is true, brother,” Isis sighed.

Kek flushed crimson and looked away. “I believe it’s true.”

“The fucking afterlife!” Bakura exploded. “My son has gone into the fucking afterlife?! The fuck?!”

“Calm down,” Malik scowled.

“The hell I will! Who the fuck has ever gone into the Duat while still being alive?” Bakura began pacing, digging his nails into his palms. “We’ve got to get in there and go after him. He can’t move that fast, surely.”

Ryou just watched the exchange with mild bemusement. _Oh, Pan…you made us all worry so much! I know you’ll be safe in there, though. They wouldn’t ever let you come to harm, not after all the dealings we’ve had with the gods of old over the years._ He turned back to the crib and dangled the pendulum over it, watching it circle and twist. _The energy is strongest here…this is where we should try to create the portal, but is such a thing possible? I’ve never even considered a living person walking amongst the dead._

“Wait here, everyone.” Ryou handed the pendulum back to Rishid, pilfered his keys from Kek’s pocket, and rushed out to the car so he could root through the boot for one of the many spell books he’d thrown in before they set off. He grabbed a few and ran back inside, garnering a few odd looks from the neighbours; he ignored them as he hurried back to where everybody still stood in the bedroom.

Ryou dropped the books onto the rumpled sheets covering the bed. “There must be something in here that can help us,” he murmured. He stretched out a hand, dithering over the leather-bound tomes, till he settled on one. “I’ll check in here. Rishid, could you please look through the – ”

“The one in hieratic. Yes.” Rishid reached out for the book and settled down on the floor before opening it.

“I will check this one,” Isis offered as she picked up the final book, heavy and inscribed in hieroglyphs.

“Oh, thank you so much, Isis.”

“It’s the least I can do, Ryou.”

Ryou looked up from his book, allowing his eyes to roam over the gathering of people united in their love and worry for the child brought into their lives by Ryou’s own forbidden magic. Again, the guilt felt as though it tugged painfully on Ryou’s heartstrings, but he willed the discomfort to leave – now wasn’t the time.

Malik touched Bakura’s arm and leaned his head in to nuzzle their noses together. “Everything’s going to be alright. We’ve the best of the best magic casters around us right now. Pan will be alright.”

“Why did we have to get stuck with the problem child?” Bakura groaned.

Rishid looked up at Bakura. “Well…look who he has for parents.”

“…Yeah, I guess I can’t argue with that one.”

“I think I’ve found something,” Isis piped up. Everyone turned their heads quickly to look at her as she pointed a finger to a slightly faded paragraph of text inside the book resting on her lap. “This passage appears to draw interpretation from the usual text inscribed in the “Book of the Dead” that the deceased were often buried with,” she explained. “No two books were ever the same, but they served the same purpose; they sought to guide the deceased through the Duat with protective spells. In addition, the deceased would learn thus how to present themselves before the gods. See here…” She pointed to a passage, screwing up her eyes to read the faded print. “This is close to the sixth spell, in which the _shabti_ would carry out the work of the deceased…but it appears to have been modified, so that a living soul might make the journey themselves.”

“Do you think it’s dangerous?” Ryou asked.

“It might well be…but we must bring Pan home. I don’t think we have much of a choice.”

Malik squeezed Bakura’s hand. “We’ll do it,” he said. “Bakura and I…we’ll be the ones to do it.”

“Are you sure, Malik?” Kek growled. “I don’t feel comfortable with the idea of you two going in there alone.”

“He’s our son. It should be us.”

Kek didn’t seem overly pleased with Malik’s reasoning, but Bakura just nodded, not speaking, and Ryou couldn’t help but smile. It was the right thing to do. This…this was their task.

“Okay,” Ryou said softly, “when do we start?”

“I believe now is as good a time as any,” Isis replied, “if Malik and Bakura are prepared.”

“We are,” they said in unison.

“We will wait here for you, alright?” Rishid told them.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bakura muttered, “just don’t steal all the beer in the fridge, will you? Otherwise, knock yourself out.”

“See you soon!” Malik smiled.

Kek sighed as he sat next to Ryou on the bed. “Good luck, guys. Come back safe, and with Pan, you hear me?”

“Don’t you start getting sappy as well,” Bakura snapped. They glared at each other a moment, till Isis cleared her throat and five pairs of eyes turned back to her. “Yeah, Deborah, ready when you are.”

She cleared her throat again, and read aloud thus, as the very air around them shimmered and swirled:

 _“O you of the_ ka, _of the_ ba, _of the_ ib, _of the_ sheut, _of the_ ren, _shall you be summoned or if you be detailed to do any work which has to be done in the realm of the dead, if indeed any obstacles are implanted for you therewith as a man at his duties, you shall detail yourself on every occasion of making arable the fields, of flooding the banks or of conveying sand from east to west; 'Here I am', you shall say. And Lo! for I open the Netherworld that you, beloved of the Father Osiris, may behold him. O you of the united_ ha, _noble, equipped; I do call upon the gods to prepare the path.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)  
> This author sees and appreciates all comments but may not reply immediately due to sheer forgetfulness.  
> Note: If, for any reason, you want to leave a comment, but would prefer not to receive a reply, feel free to sign your comment with four tildes - ~~~~ - and I will appreciate massively but not respond!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up being my favourite chapter - I hope you all enjoy it too! Updating a day ahead of schedule now all Shadow-chan's art has been released, and I need some time to fine-tune the final two chapters. You all know I can never do anything on time.

* * *

“Did it…did it work?”

“Well, do _you_ see your fucking in-laws around here?”

“I don’t have any in-laws, idiot.”

Bakura rolled his eyes, still tinged with red from crying. “Whatever. Anyway, look around us – I don’t think our bedroom ever had a river running through it.”

It was true; Malik’s mouth dropped open as he gasped in surprise at their surroundings. Indeed, the landscape much resembled the depictions of the ancient world, as he’d seen in the books and scrolls from the tombs of his childhood. He had blocked out much of his time underground now, but the education…he remembered loving every moment of it, the old tomes resplendent in their beauty, seeping with long-dead history. Here it lay before his eyes.

There was no time to stop and admire the view; somewhere in the deceptive expanse, their son needed his parents. Malik reached for Bakura’s hand and gave it a squeeze, pleased when Bakura returned the gesture. “Let’s go find Pan. He’s got to be somewhere in here.”

“Up to no good, most likely,” Bakura muttered.

“Well, Rishid was right – look who he has for parents.”

They started walking, following the river’s course for guidance. Conversation flitted light and easy between them – did they know the same mythology of the afterlife? Bakura admitted that back in the day, he couldn’t read, so he only recalled bits and pieces of what his family told him; the life after death he knew twinkled in the stars, whereas Malik remembered the primordial waters of Nun, the underworld stretching deep below the flat, ovoid Earth. The talking served to calm their panic, keep their minds focused – Pan surely would not come to any harm here…right? Right…?

“I’m a little worried at what we will see here,” Malik said, lavender eyes roaming the landscape. “There are no gates or portals…and we haven’t seen Ra on his barque yet.”

“Well, we’re not dead, so I guess we’ll see different stuff?” Bakura kicked at a rock near his foot. “I don’t know, Malik. We’ll just have to keep going and hope for the best.”

The river widened after a long, slow curve, opening to pass under an expanse of what appeared to be bones twisted into the likeness of a mighty bridge. It was difficult to make out from the distance Malik and Bakura stood from it, but the off-white, shiny features of the structure sent anticipating shivers down their spines.

A long figure stood at the foot of the bridge, human-bodied and dark-skinned, with the head of a ram, in which deep-set eyes watched the couple approach. An ornate collar decorated the figure’s throat, a simple shenti wrapped and belted at his waist. “Welcome, children!” His call boomed with merriment. “Welcome to our nether realm. It has been a long time since one of the living walked among us.”

Malik gave a shy smile as he inclined his head. “Lord Ra…ram of the west.” Beside him, Bakura simply nodded, eyes downcast. “I hope we haven’t disrupted your journey overmuch.”

“Nay,” Ra laughed, “for Apep has been slain, and the dawn comes forthwith. There is time, still…and I would see you to the grand hall to meet my brethren.” He surveyed Malik and Bakura with his glittering eyes. “You were called into existence, at the moment of your conception, through mine speaking of your true names, but I would hear your given names now, before crossing the bridge.”

“I am Malik bin Khamsin Ishtar, my lord,” Malik replied.

“Very good.” Ra turned his gaze onto Bakura. “And the thief of legend, stolen from the shadows, I bid you speak also.”

Bakura swallowed, looking very much like all the breath in his lungs had frozen solid. Ra was patient, however, and waited for him to muster his strength. “I…I am Bakura Iren Kamose al-Qelnari Ishtar.” A nervous laugh burst from him. “A mouthful, I’m sure.”

“We hear many names, child,” Ra said gently. “The length is never of consequence. Do not look so nervous, for you did not come here for judgement.” He turned on his heel and gestured towards the bridge. “Come, now…your arrival has been anticipated, and my brethren are awash with excitement.”

Malik and Bakura glanced at each other, surprised. If anything, surely the gods themselves would be annoyed with them for disrupting their flow of natural events. Yet Ra himself seemed to think the opposite…and who were they to doubt his words? Their expressions gave way to amusement as they reached for each other, linking their hands, and a soft smile graced Bakura’s lips, that dropped the second Malik giggled in response. Around them, the landscape faded to a dusky hue, and sconces burst into life along walls that hadn’t been there a second ago. The _clack_ of polished bone beneath their feet gave way to the dull _thud_ of mud brick. The darkness didn’t frighten Malik anymore, not when he had his moonlight by his side.

They might have walked hours; they might have walked minutes; the modern concept of time didn’t seem to have much meaning here, and indeed, when Malik checked his phone, the clock had stopped entirely. Eventually, though, they came to stand before a door woven with intricate gold embossing, and something about its imposing size was enough to tell of what lay behind it. Ra rapped twice on the door with his knuckles, and without so much as a squeak of hinges, the doors swung inwards.

“Come, children,” Ra beckoned, before stepping through the doorway with a flash of brilliant light. Blinking back the after-images from the dazzle, Malik and Bakura hurried after him.

 _Pan! Are you here? Please be here!_ Malik had not prayed in a long time, not since his initiation as a child, and had he not known that the deities of old awaited them, he might have begun to pray for the safety of his son. Several soundless murmurs of pleading fell from his lips regardless, unable to help himself.

All too soon, he felt eyes on them – numerous pairs of eyes, piercing in their curiosity, no trace of hostility in their gaze. He stopped as Ra did, and Bakura, walking ever so slightly ahead, jerked and hopped back into place from the tug of Malik’s hand. Malik took a deep breath, and rearranged his features into something a little more formal and respectable, before dragging his own gaze upwards, to where Ra took the one vacant seat.

“Holy shit.” Bakura whispered the words that hopped into Malik’s mind at the exact same time, and Malik couldn’t help but stifle a small giggle. Some of the faces turned towards them were not human, but one after the other, Ra included, they passed a hand over their faces, and their features gave way to dark eyes and bright smiles –

All except one, the young, shrewd-looking god wearing the pschent headdress of Upper and Lower Egypt. _Horus._ His nose wrinkled as he muttered, “Over three thousand years have passed since you last stood before us, and your tongue still has yet to cleanse itself. Pray, do not befoul the air, _thief.”_

“Peace, youngling,” Ra chided softly. His human visage took the form of a late-aged man, with hair beginning to grey and an expression that shone with life. “They came not to be looked upon with distaste.”

“Ah…you are right, of course. I beg your pardon, lord Ra.”

A lilting giggle rose from Horus’ left side, coming from the wise-looking woman holding a sistrum in her lap. _Bastet._ “Oh, I have but waited excitedly for this moment!” She rose from her seat, beaming from ear to ear, and descended from the dais to approach Malik and Bakura, enveloping them both in a fierce hug befitting of the maternal lioness she represented. “There is naught to fear,” she whispered. “The babe is safe and well.”

Bakura gasped. “He’s alright?”

“Mayhap a touch weary for his bed, but otherwise without a scratch.” Bastet drew back and kissed Bakura on the brow, then Malik. “He passed through not long ago. ‘Tis no exaggeration when I say that we have never seen anything such as this before!”

“My lady,” called the god whose grin seemed almost wolfish – _that must be Anubis –_ “pray, refrain from handling them so, and return to us so that we might explain.”

Bastet returned the grin, still giggling. “My lord hath spoken. Come, children…sit with us awhile.” She swept back to her seat and settled down, adjusting her dress before laying a hand gently on Anubis’ arm; Malik and Bakura seated themselves at the feet of the gods. “Well…” Bastet mused, “where to begin?”

A bare-breasted goddess leaned forward then, eyes blinking large and full of honesty. A series of feathers adorned her hair. _Ma’at._ “If I may,” she piped up, and Bastet nodded at her, smiling, “it took us much time to fathom just how far the babe had travelled, and how, indeed…for the roads behind you are perilous at best, and deadly at worst. How, then, did he make it so far?”

Bakura glanced up at Ra. “Did you see Pan at all?”

“I did not.” The god shook his head. “I arrived at the hall following my nightly battle, and it was here that my brethren informed me thus.”

“He gave us quite the fright at first,” remarked the hook-nosed god seated to the end of the gathering, only looking up now and then as he wrote on a long sheet of papyrus. _Thoth – no mistaking him._ “How many of the living have ever deigned to walk through the land of the dead, and of those, how many were mere infants?”

“I do believe that the babe crawled, rather than walked,” Anubis pointed out. Malik couldn’t help cracking a grin, and Bakura burst into laughter, as did Bastet and Ra, but Horus gave an almost imperceptible roll of his eyes.

“You are right, of course, my lord.” Thoth put down the quill in his hand, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “It transpires that the babe was well protected, though the source of which, we did not immediately see.”

 _I don’t understand._ Malik frowned into his lap, seeing Bakura do the same in his peripheral vision. When he voiced his concern aloud, Thoth smiled knowingly, though he spoke no more.

“It is what shapes his very being,” Horus took over. “Amalgamation, a coming together of two properties - sun and moon, retribution and redemption, past and present – your child is one of duality, in the very essence of his soul and beyond. Although…” He scowled briefly at his fingernails, “There is much to be said for the nature of the ritual that bore him.”

“If I had 1,000 yen for every time I heard that,” Bakura sighed.

“I still don’t completely follow,” Malik admitted.

Anubis got to his feet. “It is high time that you were reunited with your son. Enough confusion and riddles now – take my hands, for your hour draws ever to closing, and there are others who would meet with you.”

 _More? My head is spinning._ Malik indeed felt a little dizzy as he allowed Bakura to help him upright, but Anubis’ grip on his hand was warm and firm, a reassurance. His other hand clasped Bakura’s, and he indicated with his head, long, fluffy black hair swaying, towards a door they had not noticed before. “None pass through to the Fields without the blessing of Lord Osiris.”

“Oh, no.” A small shiver rippled visibly up Bakura’s spine.

“Worry not!” Bastet called out. “Many became Osiris upon their deaths, but the true ruler never changes.”

“We wish you luck,” Ma’at smiled. “May your family brim with love and trust forevermore.”

Bakura and Malik glanced at each other, surprised, yet amused. “Thank you,” they said as one.

“Go now,” Ra nodded. “Go, with our words at your backs and your son in your hearts.”

“We will.” Malik gave Ra a small bow. “It has been an honour.” Beside him, Bakura smirked and rolled his eyes, mouthing _brown-noser._

Pleasantries exchanged, Anubis gently led the couple to the new door, and paused before it a moment as it swung open without any preamble. Behind it lay another corridor, not unlike the one they had travelled down to reach the hall, though without the bridge of bones. Here the very air felt bright and warm, welcoming, like a balmy summer day. From down the corridor, a rasping voice echoed, _“Come, children…approach and be welcome.”_

The god of the dead sat upon a simple throne. Skin a lustreless grey-green and linen wrappings swathing his body, Osiris, father of Horus, nevertheless appeared nothing short of alive, fit and well, with an almost aura-like presence about him that spoke of his majesty and brilliance. Behind him stood his sisters, Nephthys, and Isis who was also his wife. They appeared almost identical in their red dresses, fine jewellery, and solemn gazes, but for their slightly different headdresses. Isis rested a hand on Osiris’ left shoulder, and Nephthys his right, and their eyes followed Malik and Bakura intently as they approached, stopping a few feet away from the throne.

For a good few moments, nobody spoke. Even Bakura, for all that his restraint had escaped him before the gods previously, appeared lost for words.

Then Osiris smiled, a subtle twitch of his lips. “I daresay,” he whispered, “our halls have been rather rambunctious this night.” Isis and Nephthys looked at each other and tittered in amusement at their brother’s statement.

“The fault is ours, lord Osiris,” Malik replied as he bowed his head. “We should have paid closer attention to our son’s abilities, so that nothing like this could happen.”

“On the contrary, sweet child of sunlight…had you watched him overmuch, the risk of suppressing his affinity for _heka_ would have been a concern.”

When Malik simply frowned, a little confused, Isis spoke up, “I believe my lord husband wishes you to know that the boy’s abilities should be encouraged to suit and befit him, as is within his being.”

Osiris nodded slowly. “You are correct, my wise lady.”

“I, um, might be insubordinate for saying this,” Bakura interjected, “but Pan has caused no end of mischief ever since these shows of magic began happening around him. After everything that’s happened to us in the past, the last thing any of us need is more magic in our lives.”

It was Nephthys who spoke now, her tone gentle, but with a gaze that demanded the listener’s full attention. “You would deny what is natural to him?”

“I-I don’t – ”

“At such a tender age, forcing the boy to repress this part of him could very well destroy him. You, thief of the sands…you, who ceased to be a child the day your village perished, you who did not allow yourself to smile, laugh, or love thereafter.” Nephthys turned her eyes to Malik now. “And you - he who carries the prophecy, who could not stand beneath the sunlight that became you. Misery and pain instead became your constant.” Her fingers tightened slightly on Osiris’ shoulder, and she sighed. “I have no wish to see another child suffer so.”

Several moments passed before the meaning of her words fully coalesced in Malik’s mind, and at once he understood. _Bakura and I were damaged because we could not be what we should have been. I can’t…I can’t let Pan grow up like us._ He drew himself up tall, met Nephthys’ eyes, and nodded, his only indications that he took the goddess’ words without offence or scorn.

“My sister speaks frankly,” Isis offered, “but from the depths of her heart. Doubtless, there shall be much for yourselves, as parents, to consider, but mayhap this can come at a later time.”

“Yes,” Osiris agreed, “for it is time to pass through to the Fields. Walk with your heads high, and your hearts joined - you are worthy of my blessing.” His eyes closed then, and a shimmer of light flickered several feet behind his throne. “Go, children,” he whispered. “I am weary, and I can say no more.”

Bakura grabbed for Malik’s hand. “Let’s go!” he hissed.

_Yes. Let’s bring our little boy home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)  
> This author sees and appreciates all comments but may not reply immediately due to sheer forgetfulness.  
> Note: If, for any reason, you want to leave a comment, but would prefer not to receive a reply, feel free to sign your comment with four tildes - ~~~~ - and I will appreciate massively but not respond!


	9. Chapter 9

The fields rang bright with carefree laughter, a kind of happiness Bakura never knew after being trapped in the shadows.

Once upon a time, all he had wanted was to go home, back to his mother’s arms. He remembered the scratchy cadence of her singing as she kneaded bread dough, and the lewd jokes she traded with her husband, their shameless guffaws filling the house with mirth. In the end, they had passed on, but Bakura remained, empty, empty, empty…till the darkness drove him mad…till Malik rescued him, gave him purpose once more.

As Bakura stared out over the ethereal landscape, he felt at ease with the decisions he had made as a free man. What he had now would forever outshine the what-ifs of the afterlife. He would never stop missing the family he lost, but year upon year, the pain loosened its hold on him. _And I have Malik…I have Pan, and Ryou. Fuck, even Kek, and Rishid, and Isis. Family’s family in the end. I’m not alone anymore._

 “It’s…nice out here.” Bakura closed his eyes and lifted his face to the sky, feeling the caress of soft light upon his skin. “No wonder everybody wanted to end up here when they died.”

“Don’t get too used to it, will you?” Malik replied. “Pan will definitely notice if I substitute Ryou as his new daddy.”

“I’m _dying_ to see you try.” Bakura’s face split into a wide, amused grin at Malik’s exasperated groan. “Come on,” he said, squeezing Malik’s hand, “Pan won’t be far now.”

Their exploration of the fields was silent for several minutes. No sign of Pan, but Bakura no longer felt the desperate, terrified urge to locate his son as quickly as possible. Sooner rather than later would of course be preferable, but knowing Pan was in no danger eased his anxious heart.

“As soon as we get home,” Malik eventually said, “I am throwing the nearest object at your head. That might have been the worst joke you’ve ever made.”

“I love you too, honey.”

“Hey, you can’t use that word. Only _I_ can use that word.”

“What, “love?”” Bakura laughed. The sight of Malik scowling whilst a deep flush spread across his cheeks was glorious.

“I swear to fucking Osiris, Bakura – ” Malik suddenly gasped, shivering visibly. “What…?” He clutched at his shoulders, fingers digging into the scars on his back; Bakura frowned with concern, wondering at Malik’s sudden attack of discomfort. As if reading Bakura’s mind, Malik shook his head. “It’s not hurting. Just…it feels strange. Like something is watching us.”

“Like the gods haven’t just been watching us the whole fucking time we’ve been here,” Bakura snorted. Nevertheless, he pushed Malik’s hands away to give his shoulders a quick rub. “Funny, huh. It was me losing my shit an hour ago, and now it’s you that’s nervo – ” This time Bakura shivered, an odd crackle in his blood, like long-dead _heka_ activating to answer a threat. His head snapped up, and he looked around, growling low in his throat. “The fuck?”

“Did you feel something, too?” Malik asked.

“Yeah.” Bakura stepped away from Malik, just a fraction, peering into the lazily waving reeds around them. He thought he glimpsed a shape moving within them, heard the rustle of stems being pushed aside…

Then laughter. Not the laughter he had heard upon entering the fields. No, he _knew_ this sound…and his face split into a wide, overjoyed smile.

A face poked suddenly out of the reeds. “Ah, good. I was hoping you would arrive soon – he needs changing.”

“You!” Bakura’s smile dropped the instant he beheld the smirking face of the godforsaken Pharaoh, decked out to the nines in all his gold and linens. Beside him, Malik just stared, seemingly struck dumb. “Can I go a single fucking lifetime without you showing up to haunt me, Pharaoh?!” Bakura demanded.

“Hello to you too, Bakura.” Atem swivelled his gaze to Malik, and his playful expression softened slightly. “Malik, you look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

Malik laughed, sounding nervous. “I’m afraid all my tombkeeper duties didn’t actually prepare me for seeing you again.”

"Well, I'm sure this little guy will perk you both up." Atem knelt in the reeds and deposited a squirming bundle into Bakura's arms. "Here you go, daddy."

"Pan!" Bakura nearly crushed the infant to his chest, but regained himself enough to hold him out at arm's length, checking him over for any signs of injury or distress. Beside him, Malik let out a cry of relief and covered his mouth, tears brimming in his eyes. "Damn, I'm glad you're okay," Bakura murmured, kissing Pan's forehead, then wrinkling his nose. "You need a clean nappy, though. Yuck."

Atem chuckled. "I did say so."

"Atem, have you been keeping an eye on him this whole time?" Malik asked, holding onto Bakura's arm with one hand and stroking Pan's back with the other.

"Just whilst he's been in here," Atem replied. "I daresay the gods thought I had been lazy recently, so they stuck me as babysitter for the time being. It's not been so bad, though - he's a lovely child, if a bit mischievous. He turned part of my hair blue, look!" The Pharaoh tugged at a lock of hair behind his ear, showing that the ends had been coloured a deep, midnight blue. "I don't know if it will ever change back or if it needs cutting off."

Bakura burst out laughing. "Good job, Pan. You've made your dads proud." He passed Pan over to Malik so he could have his share of reunion cuddles.

"Yes, I believe he's carrying on your legacy of messing me around as much as possible," Atem grinned. "But your time here is coming to an end, and I'm sure everyone is waiting for you to return home. It's been lovely to see you both, and to meet Pan. Say hello to everyone for me, won't you?"

"Thank you for watching over him," Malik sighed, nuzzling Pan, who didn't seem overly amused by the onslaught of affection, and proceeded to kick out at his father whilst wearing one of his Bakura-like scowls. "My sister will probably have a heart attack when I tell her we've seen you."

"Sounds like a fucking blessing to me," Bakura muttered. Atem swatted at him in rebuke for his language, and he snorted, amused. "Alright already, we're going...actually, how do we get out of here...?"

The world around them had already begun to fade as Bakura's words trailed away; Atem waved them off with a mirthful expression, and Pan shouted in displeasure -

Then Bakura's knees slammed into the worn carpet of their bedroom, and everything was noise and cacophony, and he reached out for Malik, seeking his comforting warmth. He ended up latching onto Kek instead, who looked at Bakura like he had just insulted his mother, and shoved him away.

"Geez, Bakura, I know you're a cuddle-slut, but you're getting none of that from me."

"He can have it from me!" Ryou crowed, throwing his arms round Bakura's shoulders. "You did it, Kura,” he murmured. "You brought him back, just as you said you would."

"Did you expect anything else?" Bakura snorted, but he couldn't help nestling a little into Ryou as he did. On the other side of the room, Isis embraced Malik and Pan, whilst Rishid sat nearby, his usual gentle, knowing smile on his face.

 A squirming Pan worked his way out of his aunt's grasping arms, to tumble onto the carpet and begin crawling over to the white-haired pair. He clambered onto Ryou's lap, probably thinking he was Bakura, but he paused when he saw Ryou's soft features and realised he wasn't looking at his father.

Bakura held his breath. Any moment now, Pan would scream bloody murder...

But instead, his face split into a joyful, chubby-cheeked smile.

Ryou burst into tears. “Oh, Pan!” He swept the babe up to his chest, pressing kisses all over his face. “Welcome home, Pan. Welcome home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)  
> This author sees and appreciates all comments but may not reply immediately due to sheer forgetfulness.  
> Note: If, for any reason, you want to leave a comment, but would prefer not to receive a reply, feel free to sign your comment with four tildes - ~~~~ - and I will appreciate massively but not respond!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick epilogue to tidy everything up! Thank you so much to everybody for reading, for commenting, for being just plain awesome and all that. You mean the world to me. Please give a massive round of applause to Shadow-chan93 for her wonderful accompanying artwork and for putting up with my dumb-ass rambles at stupid o'clock. No thanks to Tumblr for their NSFW ban, though - out of everybody who participated in this project, I think I was the only one that got Zucced. Don't worry, I'm up and running again!

“Oi, slowpokes, hurry up! Early bird catches the worm and all that.”

“Fuck you!” Malik yelled from further down the hill. “How the hell did your asthmatic ass even get up there so fast?”

Bakura decided not to dignify that with a response, instead bending down to clip the flaps of Pan’s trapper hat together under his chin. It was freezing cold, their breath misting in the crisp winter air. That hadn’t stopped Pan from jumping on his fathers’ bed to loudly demand a hike at five in the morning, and, well, Bakura wasn’t one to turn down Pan’s demands these days. He’d be damned, though, if he had to suffer it alone, so Malik, Ryou, and Kek had been dragged along for the ride.

“Don’t listen to daddy,” Bakura told Pan. “He’s just jealous that we’re so quick on our feet, isn’t he?” Pan giggled in response, squirming as Bakura’s fingers tickled his neck. “Come on, we’re almost to the top. Race you!”

“Dada run run run!” Pan stumbled after Bakura with a delighted scream.

Malik groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. “It’s like living with two frigging toddlers. Ryou, I take back what I said about you and Kek having kids…” He glanced sideways at Ryou, walking arm in arm with a smirking Kek. “Though obviously my words come far too late.”

“Just a little.” Ryou laughed.

After Pan’s return from Aaru a year ago, Ryou had caught a violent fit of broodiness, and just a week prior to current events (with eventual permission from Kek), decided “just one more time for science,” resulting in the arrival of the olive-skinned, ash-blonde baby girl now nestled in Pan’s old fabric wrap against Kek’s chest. Though much the same as Pan had been initially, having been thrown into existence without maternal development, Ryou and Kek nonetheless took her outside as much as possible, exposing her to everything Malik and Bakura had been too frightened to do with Pan. If it benefitted her any, they had no idea – she just slept a lot, which Ryou had assured Kek was completely normal for a newborn.

“I wish you’d have said it again before we decided this was a good idea,” Kek grumbled. “I miss sleep.”

“Well, she’s cute, so I forgive her,” Ryou smiled.

“I don’t.”

“He likes her really,” Ryou said to Malik. Malik nodded; he knew. Good-natured complaining was as much a part of Kek’s personality as it was Bakura’s, and there was no denying that Bakura loved their son with all the heart he had regained over the years.

Once they finally reached the top of the hill, they found Bakura sat in the frosted grass with Pan as the toddler sifted through a small pile of leaves. Malik crouched beside them and huffed at the sight of Pan’s bright red fingers. “I knew we should have taped those gloves onto his wrists.” Then he looked at Bakura, smiling to see him looking so invested in Pan’s play. “Maybe we should go out in the morning more often. Heaven knows we both need the exercise.”

Bakura blinked, blank-faced, at Malik. “Sounds suspiciously like something I need motivation to do. No thanks.”

“But look how happy Pan is.”

“…I mean, yeah, when you put it like that…ugh, fine, why don’t you just tell me I’m getting fat or something. Least you kept the abs of steel.”

“Hey, I happen to like your little belly.” Malik leaned in to peck Bakura on the cheek. “Ryou brought some flasks of tea and coffee. You want some?”

“Fuck yes.” Bakura shot off like a bullet towards the bench where Ryou and Kek sat.

Malik settled down into the grass with Pan, crossing his legs and resting his elbows on his knees as he watched Pan playing. It was remarkable, really, how much he had developed over the past year, and a delight to witness. Countless times Malik had caught himself and Bakura stopping dead in their tracks to stare at Pan as he sang to himself, or discovered he had a shadow, or ate crayons; having so little experience with children, it took them a long time to realise that their son was indeed just about as normal as any other child…if the unexplained bursts of magic were to be ignored, anyway. They still happened, albeit less often now.

Pan uttered an excited squeal and held his hand up to Malik, nose crinkled as he smiled widely. “Hm? _Madha wajadat?”_ Malik leaned forward, frowning at whatever was pinched between Pan’s fingers and making a mental note for the thousandth time to go and get his eyes tested.

 _“Ankabut!”_ Pan proudly exclaimed.

“Oh, hell no.” Malik shifted backwards, seeing the eight tiny flailing legs. “No, no, I don’t want it, Pan – put it back in the – _ya lahwy –_ no, don’t start crying, I wasn’t telling you off. Bakura!”

“Caffeine calls, he’s your problem now,” Bakura shrugged, sipping coffee.

Ryou was at the side of the wailing toddler a moment later. “Can I look?” he said to Pan, who sniffed and deposited the spider into Ryou’s cupped hands. “Aw, he’s cute! Thank you, Pan. Should we count his legs together?”

Pan nodded, nuzzling his streaming nose into Ryou’s chest. “Ree _aam,”_ he mumbled.

“Thanks, honey,” Malik laughed, fanning himself. He got up, dusted dirt and leaf bits off his trousers, then ambled over to Kek, who wordlessly held out a flask of coffee and a mug. “You know, I don’t think I’ll ever get over Pan calling Ryou his uncle,” he said to Kek as he sat down beside him, pouring coffee into the mug. “D’you remember how much he cried the first time Pan even _smiled_ at him? I thought he was going to flood your living room when Pan first said “uncle.””

“Life’s never quiet with you lot, is it.” Kek had a hint of a smirk on his face as he said it. “Beats the shadow realm anytime, though. Guess I don’t have much to bitch about when I think about what life used to be for me.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

Kek shrugged. “You didn’t stick a knife in your own back. Don’t apologise.”

“Still…”

 _“Akhun.”_ Kek rested his head against Malik’s. “It’s okay.”

“…Have you decided on a name for her yet?”

“No, not yet. Ryou says we have another week to register her.” Kek touched the top of the sleeping babe’s head gently. “I want to suggest “Amane,” but…”

Bakura leaned over the back of the bench, between Malik and Kek. “He’d like that. Ryou, I mean.” He sipped from his mug and wiped a droplet of coffee from his chin. “Trust me.”

“Are you sure?” Kek looked over at Ryou and Pan playing together. “I don’t want to upset him.”

“Can’t go through life worrying that everything you do is gonna upset him. Look at us two.” Bakura poked Malik in the side playfully. “Pissing each other off is pretty much a part of us.”

“Don’t say that like it’s a good thing,” Malik laughed, but he stole a kiss from Bakura’s lips regardless.

“Hey, you heard the gods. Can’t do anything about what makes us, us.”

 _I guess he’s right._ Malik leaned back, allowing Bakura to drape his free arm round his shoulders as they watched their best friend run through leaves with their little boy. He recalled Horus’ words about Pan, what shaped his existence, and what had kept him safe during his time adventuring in the afterlife. They still made little sense, but maybe…

_“Amalgamation, a coming together of two properties - sun and moon, retribution and redemption, past and present – your child is one of duality, in the very essence of his soul and beyond…”_

…Maybe the time had not yet come. And Malik and Bakura, they had a lifetime together to find out.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)  
> This author sees and appreciates all comments but may not reply immediately due to sheer forgetfulness.  
> Note: If, for any reason, you want to leave a comment, but would prefer not to receive a reply, feel free to sign your comment with four tildes - ~~~~ - and I will appreciate massively but not respond!


End file.
